Merciless
by FreddyJason27
Summary: Shadows laugh and tell lies. So does she that holds the heart of Cutler Beckett. Is it so wrong that she kisses the clerk instead? - Mercer Oneshot -


Snippets of…Yeah, I don't know where I got this but Mercer needs more love. So, in consequence to someone asking for him to have some love I created this…I think he's pretty cool too so…

M-m-M-m-M-m

Wall

He's staring, water dribbling down the rivulets between the bricks, and he doesn't care when crimson replaces crystal.

Silence

Its absolute here and she shudders against the stone walls that surround her, the dim light that filters through the bars making her give a sob as she sees his shadow.

Lullaby

"Shh," he whispers, a finger to his lips, the screech of leather in her ear far from comforting. "Don't make a sound," and his eyes – with their darkness – terrify her.

Sleep

Her eyes are wide and bloodshot as she lies on her side, staring out the window where on the other side, a cage waits.

Prey

That's all she's ever been, feet skidding over mud, covered in bruises and gashes. But she'd rather die than go back…She'd rather disappear.

Gentle

It's not a term for him. But he lifts her hand - with its curled fingers - to his lips, the leather on his hands strangely warm. But those eyes, black and emotionless, are still fathomless.

Scars

She was told how he got them…An oil lamp from his 'employers' old flame after he'd been sent to retrieve her from a whore's house. He left her there in a pool of blood.

Heartbeat

She presses her hand to that place, aware that if it isn't gone – she'll have to finish what the pirates started.

Fragile

If it weren't for the fact that she'd disobeyed, that she knew what awaited her was a firm beating, she would have almost thought him a changed man as he **carried** her into the mansion.

Mark

There was a mark on her shoulder – the reason that she wore dresses that always hid what was there – in the form of lines which curved to make a half-circle shape.

Night

She's aware that he's there as she takes her paces around the garden in the moonlight. She sits down on a stone bench, eyes downcast, and she jumps when an ungloved finger strokes a tear from her cheek.

Shadow

She throws things – randomly – in every direction and only stops when he grabs her wrists. She grabs a nearby lamp…Fleeing when she realizes what she's done…

White

It symbolizes purity, innocence, and…Something to be stolen in the night by a thief with no name.

Restraint

His grip is strong she knows because when his fingers are around her neck - the flaming wax going down his face, and eyes alight with a fury that not even fire could achieve - she will not come home breathing.

Thief

She runs her fingers along the slip of cloth in her small hands; it's snowy in color…Such a contrast to his hair. She actually grins when his eyes focus on her, with the tie in her hands, and she quickly darts away into the maze of the garden.

Vices

He's standing in the corner, watching her again, and a choker around her neck hides the proof of that night.

And

She stands, making him stiffen as her eyes dart to the door and him.

Virtues

But she only moves a foot or so away, to grab a volume from the shelf, and reseats herself moments later to his relaxing form.

Bad

Is it wrong that with the cover of darkness she doesn't mind being pressed into a wall by him, his fingers yanking away her dress? But she stops him because…His eyes aren't black.

Better

She's troubled when he's replaced by guards, whom she easily slips by in the evenings, making her way to the docks. It's become too complicated.

Memory

An odd sense of déjà vu fills her as she's being tugged back, her wrist caught in his leather clad vice.

Locked

She's screaming at him, finally letting this dam inside of her out and he tells her to keep quiet, but she won't. Not till his lips seal hers.

Passion

Their tongues clash, eyes squeezed shut, and his fingers mix into her fiery locks, tugging gently. Her own nimble digits find his locks, releasing them from the tie, and she whimpers when he pulls away.

Betrayal

"No," he grips her biceps, aware of her pleading eyes, "I can't do this. You're his."

Morning

"Wipe that grin off your face!" She snarled at him as he stood there, smirking.

Façade

Her face is a mask she thinks, as she puts on those layers of color that are supposed to make her look 'decent'. And dimly – only for a moment – she wonders what that man in the shadows thinks.

Body

Her skirts are up to her hips, legs wrapped around his waist as he pummels her into the tree. His teeth are grit and eyes are shut tight, her own face is pressed into his neck and she wonders why neither of them can look at the other.

Soul

"I do," she says it so mechanically, but she's not looking at the businessman, the lord, her husband. She's looking at the clerk.

Roses

She misses them, wishing she were in London again, but rejoices when she sees one on her window.

Lie

The man above her grunts as he thrusts, whispering something she cares not to hear as she fakes enjoyment. Instead, her mind wanders to black eyes and silver knives.

Truth

"I love you," she whispers to him as they walk under the archway where no one can see. She isn't surprised when he's not by her side as she steps back into the light.

Song

"You know…It's a sin to shoot a mockingbird." He jerks his head to look at her, his fist clenching, and jaw tensing as he looks deep into her eyes. "Then I'm already damned."

Thought

She's pregnant, her belly growing with a new life, and her husband is joyful. But what is she to say of the babe's black eyes?

Twisted

Is it so shocking that the tea was poisoned? That she will never re-marry?

Mirror

She combs out her hair, watching the shadows of her reflection, and is calm when a leather covered finger touches her lips, tracing them in a kiss.

Shiver

Its summer and she's shuddering atop her dead husband's desk, quivering and biting her tongue as he drives into her with no remorse. She wonders what Cutler would have to say about the sticky white substance getting on the business sheets?

Fortune

Her son is ten years of age when he inherits everything, ordering and commanding with sleight of hand. The clerk grins from the shadows.

Service

He pledges loyalty to the young man, the lord of the East India Trading Company, and the boy smiles at his father.

Chill

Arms wrap around her waist from behind – everyone can see – and yet no one cares now. His body is warm and so are his lips as he brings her hand to them.

Final

She enters her room, draping her cloak over a nearby chair and smiles when she feels someone step out of the shadows. Leather clad fingers undo her corset, freeing her as his lips descend to her pulse.


End file.
